Checkmate
by Kevvy Talks
Summary: Following the friendships Isshin made with three certain captains just before the events that led him to depart Soul Society.


**Checkmate**

**Characters/Pairings: Isshin/Ukitake/Kisuke and Shunsui**

**Genre: Friendship**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: Following the friendships Isshin sowed just before the events that led him to depart Soul Society.**

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><p>Chess is a mind-numbing game, he thought. It takes concentration, diligence, and strategic capability. Who knew romance could ever play a part in this type of war?<p>

Because that's what he made every second of their relationship: a blissful trial worthy of the upmost contemplation.

Isshin was combatant; he liked sport, and he even more so enjoyed the thought of taking off into some wild fantasy adventure that involved nothing but women and sakè. Ryuuken couldn't altogether understand the man's delirium. He and Ukitake both were practical males, whereas Isshin was gullible and believed every rumor or heresay that was tossed his direction.

If this man's emotions were a color, they would possibly be every shade under the sun, and if he had a religion, he would probably bend over and kiss the ass of every deity, god, goddess or otherwise on the face of creation. Yes, as Ryuuken Ishida liked to state, he was in a prolonged preconceptual stage in his growth where he would just naturally attain nothing but the brain span of a pre-schooler.

He was and would always act like a child. It was "in his nature," as Ukitake liked to point out. The days became further and in between when the Quincy ever even bothered to make a show in Seireitei anymore. Ryuuken said it was because he was trying his hardest to maintain his reputation; that, and he most obviously wasn't welcome on their grounds. Still, Isshin always managed a goofy grin and declared that the intern was evading honesty, and the facts: that he had found love and passion elsewhere.

The woman's name was never released on account of Ryuuken wanting to salvage what was left of his privacy from the Soul Reapers, and his friend and comrade didn't press it.

"He's...happy," Isshin said somberly. Ukitake combed a hand through his hair as the bow-weilding warrior traveled via _senkaimon _back to the world of the living. His chocolate brown irises flickered in the luminescence of daybreak, not with sorrow, but a bewilderment he didn't altogether comprehend.

Ukitake's brow creased as he glanced to his partner, Shunsui Kyoraku, who was shaking the vessel of a vacant goard containing once renmants of alcohol. Shunsui caught Jushiro's concentrated stare, mouth agape in mid-complaint about his lack of substance, and saw the cock of his head as his friend gestured to the male farthest to the right.

A vibrant, flamboyant soul, was what they called him. Intelligent, laid-back, and more than willing to live existence to its max. But, Ukitake had reasoned, that chance had been given in their hands and taken because of nature and the universe's Godly ways. Why they had been sent to a hell far worse than their last, with the promise of Heaven on foreign lips, he was sure would forever be lacking in a correct answer.

But Isshin-bright, beaming, stupid Isshin-was miserable, no matter how hard he denied it. He was so damn gullible-so damn sappy and worldly-it was impossible _not _to watch as, for the first time in centuries, he realized he wanted something more out of what he had. Of course, this bit of knowledge evaded Isshin, because what he directly desired eluded him, though he knew it was somewhere out there.

_"Check," Shunsui said, and cornered Ukitake's king with his rook._ A slight glimpse of something ephemeral, existing transiently in infinite space-burning like a flesh wound-and they both saw, in the midst and dust of their friend's departure, that the smallest indulgences could mean the introduction and birth of an entirely new universe. Beyond the invisible yet solid line dividing them from humans was a parallel reality similar to the one they carried out now. But to some, it was so much more beautiful that you had to see it to believe it.

_They _were beautiful. Being human was beautiful.

Ukitake envied Isshin his perspective. He envied the fact that in a single space of time, Isshin dropped everything he'd ever known and turned his back on Soul Society for a world he'd already left behind. Even though there were consequences and the likelihood he could be caught was probable, he didn't turn back.

One day, without warning, a revered captain of the 13 Court Guard squads died in combat. A vigil was held for him and many gathered to mourn his loss.

Three did not attend.

"He said he was sorry he let you down," Kisuke told them. The usually witty Soul Reaper was replaced by a solemn man full of lament. Neither said or did anything but to nod in reaction to his words. Kyoraku was drinking again from his flask; normally, Ukitake would have told him off for such behavior, but right now he could just tell that the scatty man was coping in the only way he knew how. Let him drink, he thought. God only knew Ukitake was going to need a drink, too, by the end of the day.

They didn't know why he did it. He hadn't left a note, nor had he displayed any type of behavior that could be branded as out of character. He had been your average, foolhardy, excessively spontaneous Isshin. He had been a captain, a _Shinigami, _and a handful of years later down the road, when Kisuke stepped out of Soul Society from exile, the man he'd known to be his friend was none of that and more. Isshin was a father and a husband, and he was making it in an unfamiliar world despite all odds.

Masaki was drying her hands on a dish towel when Kisuke knocked on the door to their home. The other side of the edifice was being renovated, it seemed, to make way for something else.

"It's going to be a medical clinic," Isshin told him after Kisuke was ushered into the house by his wife.

"I have to admit, you're doing well for yourself," the former-captain of the Department of Research and Development murmured.

"Yep, this is my future." Urahara followed Isshin into a dim room on the second floor. The curtains were drawn and the air conditioning was on, causing a steady hum to resonate through the space in which they stood. Isshin strode over to the crib that sat next to the bed he shared with his wife and leaned over the guard rail.

"Isn't he cute?" he cooed, stretching his hand down into the crib and yelping. Urahara peered over the railing down at the baby that lie swaddled in blankets. He had his father's brown eyes and a shock of orange hair that stuck out in all directions. He had been awakened by Isshin's prodding finger and was now gnawing on it.

"He's teething," came the uncomfortable groan as his offspring sucked and bit on the abused digit.

"What's his name?" Urahara asked.

"Ichigo." Ichigo gurgled, and then sneezed, coating Isshin's hand in mucous.

"Ugh...That's my good boy," he praised, grimacing. Urahara smiled, continuing to look down at Isshin's son even as the man backed away and commenced to look around for something to wipe his hand off with. Yes, Ichigo _was _his future. Urahara knew, without question, that one day this boy would grow up to be an even stronger man than his father.

Until then, he would watch over him until the day came that he was needed. They would all watch over Ichigo. And when that time came that Ichigo's power was needed for a higher purpose, the pawns on this lifelong chessboard of theirs would have served their purpose and the main pieces would put their plants into fruition of theirs. By then, this would all hopefully would be over.

_"Checkmate..." Ukitake said. Shunsui pouted._


End file.
